


Patch Work

by laylabinx



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Chewie is a good bro, Gen, Han's a bit of an idiot, Hurt/Comfort, Lando doesn't really like Han but he's not going to let him bleed to death either, bromance kinda - Freeform, tentative friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 22:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15229347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laylabinx/pseuds/laylabinx
Summary: Lando expected a lot of things when coming to Alnema but a grinning, bleeding Han Solo was not one of them.





	Patch Work

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Raise your hand if you've ever gone through crippling writer's block for months and want to write everything and nothing all at the same time literally cannot force yourself to do any of it! Cool, not just me then. Anyway, hope you all enjoy this, it was a lot of fun to write!
> 
> Also, quick PSA: if you ever find yourself in the very unfortunate position of being impaled by something do not, I repeat DO NOT pull it out. Ignore Lando's method of pull it out and hope for the best (no innuendo intended); doing so will definitely make things worse and you might die. So take it from a pro who routinely ignores sound medical advice: just leave it in. Also, stay in school kids. Knowledge is power.

Baryl is an odd planet.

It’s everything and nothing all at once, a pure dichotomy of existence. The whole planet is a combination of heavy industry and untouched wilderness, high society and poverty-stricken slums, bone-dry deserts and fathomless lakes. It’s one of those odd sections of the universe that draws people in for one reason or another: work, love, money, sex, it doesn’t matter; everyone has a reason for coming to here. Baryl also possesses the unique ability to have everything you need and nothing you want which makes it perfect for outlaws, smugglers, and everything in between. It’s both a first choice and a last resort, where work is hard but money comes easily if you know how to find it.

It’s one of the many things Lando loves about this place. On a planet like Baryl, you don’t always have to know why you’re here but you’ll definitely figure it out before you leave. As for himself, he’s here for work, a short job that will wrap up within the week, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take in some of pleasures of the city while he waits.

The main city, Alnema, is peppered with dozens of clubs and cantinas that cater to everyone from the upper echelons of Baryl’s high society to the lower, working class who are struggling to just get by. Lando picks one that’s somewhere in the middle, not a dive but not a penthouse either. He reasons it’s a good way to keep himself entertained while waiting for this job to wrap up and scout for other potential jobs at the same time.

The building is nearly filled to capacity when he arrives but the warm ripple of energy pulsing through the crowd serves as an invitation rather than a deterrent. It’s full of promise and threat, the kind of place you could lose yourself or find yourself by the end of the night. Maybe both. And for some reason that just makes the appeal even stronger. Lando enters with a grin and quickly finds a place among the assembled crowd.

He spends about an hour socializing, passing seamlessly from one conversation and one group to another. He’s getting a feel for the bar and its patrons, figuring out who to approach and who to avoid. He’s good at reading people, always has been, and it usually only takes him a few seconds to determine good company from bad. For the time being, at least, the good definitely outweighs the bad.

There are a few card tables set up toward the back to the room with little clumps of people surrounding them. They’re small games mostly, definitely not the high-stakes gambling Lando is used to, but he sits in for a few games and watches carefully. He doesn’t know the game that well but he’s a fast learner and it doesn’t take long before he’s grinning and joking with the other players while simultaneously reaping the benefits of their losing bets.

The crowd is genial enough but he knows when to quit and politely excuses himself from the table once he’s won a significant amount. Staying longer might lead to some uncomfortable interactions and he’s hoping to avoid that if possible. Also he doesn’t want to alert a crowd to the amount he’s won in the event that someone tries to rob him of it by the end of the night. It’s happened before and it’s a mistake he’s definitely not eager to repeat.

He makes his way to the bar slowly, eyes drifting over the crowd, when he spots someone hunched over a table having a quiet, rapid conversation with a rough-looking man with shifty eyes. Lando pauses for just a second, his eyes lingering on the other man leaning over the table. The flop of dark hair and the the way he stands makes him look vaguely familiar but he can’t place him right off hand.

It takes about fifteen more seconds for him to realize who it is and by that time he’s already shaking his head and walking in the other direction. Nope. No. Absolutely not. He has no desire to get mixed up with this cocky, arrogant-

“Lando!” a voice calls from across the bar, loud and instantly recognizable.

Lando shakes his head again and tries to keep walking but finds himself trapped behind a wall of bar patrons who are all but impassable. He realizes he’s trapped and curses under his breath. He’s a gambler, an extremely good one at that, but even he’s baffled by the sheer odds that of all the planets in the entire freaking galaxy, they just happens to end up in the same bar.

The crowd is starting to dissipate marginally and he’s going to make a break for the back room given the first opportunity. He’s shuffling forward when he hears the voice call out again. “Lando! Hey, Lando!”

Lando rolls his eyes and keeps walking; damn idiot’s causing a scene and he doesn’t want to be associated with any of it if he can help it. He’s just about to push the rest of his way into the back room a hand catches him on the shoulder.

“Hey, I thought that was you!” Han says with a half-cocked grin.

Lando fixes him with a moderate glare. “And what would you have done if it wasn’t me?”

Han considers the question. “Hadn’t thought about that.”

“That’s not surprising,” Lando mutters under his breath, purposefully taking a step away from Han and putting a decent amount of distance between them. Last he heard Han had managed to land himself on the top of some very short lists in the smuggling world and Lando was in no hurry to associate with him in case someone in the bar decided to collect.

But from the look of things, it seems someone might have already tried that. Han looks a lot like he’s been bounced around in an asteroid field for a couple of days. He’s filthy, covered in dust, grime, and a mixture of everything in between from his scruffy head down to his boots. His face is riddled with bruises, a few darker ones peppering his jawline with little patches of yellow and green discoloring the skin along the outer edges. One eye is bloodshot and looks like it’s just about to swell closed given the right incentive. There’s dried blood on his knuckles and a long streak of it on his pants but Han either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care; possibly both.

“Looks like you’re having a rough day, friend,” Lando comments mildly, hiding a grimace as he looks Han up and down one more time. He notices Han is putting little to no pressure on his right leg and his left arm is pressed against his side like he’s trying to keep something from escaping. He’s leaning against a table in a poorly concealed attempt to keep himself upright and it looks like his one good leg is about to give out at any second. It’s a pitiful sight altogether and Lando doesn’t even _like_ Han but he has to admit the other man looks like he’s been through the ringer. “What brings you to Alnema?”

Han shrugs in a way that’s probably supposed to come off a carefree and nonchalant but just ends up looking stiff and painful. “The _Falcon_ needed some repairs and this was the closest place.”

“Mhmm,” Lando hums with a slow nod. “And I suppose said repairs are related to all this in some way?” he asks, gesturing toward Han’s dirty clothes and bruised face.

Han flashes a quick grin (which also looks painful) and shrugs again. “Can’t look good all the time, right?”

Lando actually feels himself chuckle at the remark and shakes his head. “Well, maybe you can’t,” he teases with a smirk. He seems to just now notice that Han is here alone, not flanked by the little ragtag team he’d been mixed up with the first time they met.

“Where’s Qi’ra?” he asks, sweeping the room with his eyes one more time. Come to think of it, he doesn’t remember seeing her the last time he ran into Han either. Granted, he was a little preoccupied with losing the _Falcon_ but still. “I figured she’d be the one keeping you out of the fire. Trouble in paradise?”

Han’s smile tightens just slightly, looking for a split second like a grimace. “Qi’ra left,” he says after a second, the words coming out just a little bit clipped. “Took Dryden’s ship and disappeared. I haven’t seen her since.”

Lando feels a brief pang of guilt for his earlier comment and shakes his head slowly. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “I know you two had a thing.”

Han shrugs it off but the betrayal is still painfully clear in his eyes. “It’s just me and Chewie now,” he explains in a vain effort to change the subject. He hikes a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the nearest shipyard. “He’s back on the ship right now; we ran into some trouble on our last job and he got pretty banged up so I made him stay back and rest.”

“From the looks of it you probably should have stayed on the ship too,” Lando comments, once again taking the myriad of bruises and dried blood that cover Han like a patchwork. It’s none of his business but he definitely thinks Han should have taken his own advice and stayed behind instead of traipsing into the nightlife of Alnema.

Han just smiles roguishly and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m alright,” he insists in a way that might have been convincing if his left eye wasn’t trying to swell closed while he’s talking. “Besides, I need to find us a job to help pay for all these repairs. My new friend over there,” he says, indicating the shifty-looking man at the table across the room (with his right hand, Lando notices; he hasn’t made any effort to move his left arm during their conversation). “Needs a shipment moved and is willing to help pay off the damages on the ship if we can get his cargo out by next week.”

Lando regards the man in question silently for a moment. He’s shadier than a Muldovian eclipse but the promise of payment is hard to beat. Still, being in debt to a person like that is never a good thing; Lando silently hopes Han realizes that.

“I’d take payment up front if I were you,” Lando says quietly, giving an imperceptible nod toward the table. “Better to have it in your hands in the beginning rather than the end.”

Han glances over his shoulder and nods slowly. “Good advice,” he says, redistributing his weight against the table to take it off his bad leg. “I should get back though, don’t want to lose the job because I’m out here socializing.”

Han flashes him an easy smile and raps his knuckles against the table top.“Good to see you, Lando.”

Lando smirks in spite of himself and nods. “You too,” he says simply. He’s surprised to find he means it; he and Han are not friends, they’re barely even acquaintances, but it is nice to see a somewhat familiar face every once in a while. For everything he might have expected when he came to Alnema, the sight of a grinning, bleeding Han Solo was not one of them.

He’s about to turn around and walk back to the card tables when something happens that takes both of them by surprise. Han, whether he forgot or just wasn’t thinking about it in the first place, steps back on his bad leg and immediately crumples, taking the table down with him. It’s a quick descent, he’s standing one minute and collapsing the next, and Lando is surprised to find himself lunging forward to catch him before he hits the ground. It’s an awkward catch, rough and more than a little clumsy, but it keeps them both mostly upright which is a plus.

“Whoa, whoa,” Lando hears himself mutter, further adjusting his hold on Han while the other man clutches his arms like a lifeline. All the blood has drained from his face and he looks ashen and confused. For a brief second Lando fears he might pass out.

“Hey,” he says, trying to get Han’s attention. “Hey! Han! Look at me!”

Han, wonder of all wonders, actually listens to him and meets his eyes. He blinks a few times, eyes darting around the room briefly like he’s trying to take stock and remedy the situation before more of the patrons see him like this. “I’m alright,” he insists shakily, his voice wobbling when he speaks. “I’m okay.”

Lando rolls his eyes. “Of course you are,” he mutters, biting back a flinch as Han’s white-knuckle grip continues to dig into his arms. He looks up to see the table where Han’s possible employer had been sitting a few seconds earlier was no empty. He doesn’t know if the man had other business to attend to or if the sight of his potential pilot going down like a house of cards made him reconsider his offer but the man definitely didn’t hang around to further negotiate their business deal.

Han is still trying to stand on his own, making a few failed attempts to right himself, but between his bad leg and combination of everything else, his efforts are in vain. His legs are shaky and unsupportive beneath him and look like they would just as soon give out from under him again given the first choice. Han is still trying though, stubborn idiot that he is, but it’s clear this is one battle he’s not going to win.

Lando sighs all the way down to his bones and readjusts his hold on him, looping one of Han’s arms across his shoulders while sliding his own arm across his lower back to better support him. “Alright, come on,” he mumbles, turning in the direction of the door.

A very tall blue-skinned woman walks up from behind and lets her fingers brush across Lando’s side as she passes. She had been at one of the card tables earlier and she and Lando had become pretty well acquainted during the game. So much so that Lando was fully intent on going back to rejoin her before the end of the night until...well, Han.

She stops when she sees the other human hanging off Lando’s shoulder, looking Han up and down with an expression that might have been concern or disgust, it’s hard to tell. Her dark eyes narrow slightly as she meets Lando’s and she chirps out a question.

Lando gives her a breezy smile and props Han up a little further against him. “Oh, he’ll be fine,” he assures her with a wink. “My friend here just had a little too much to drink.”

“Nope, that’s just the blood loss,” Han corrects, his words coming out dull and slurred.

Lando frowns and glances down, seeming to just now notice Han’s left side is pressed against him. His jacket had been hiding it before but now that Lando was closer he could see that the whole left side of Han’s shirt was stiff and tacky with a combination of fresh and dried blood. He can’t tell how bad the wound is but judging from the amount of blood soaking his shirt, he’s guessing it’s pretty serious.

He recovers quickly though, flashing another bright grin at the blue-skinned woman while resisting the urge to drop Han on the floor and leave him there for being such a pain in the ass. “As I said, my friend has just had a little too much tonight. I’m going to take him back to his ship.”

The woman doesn’t look convinced but she drops the subject without a fight and chirps at him flirtatiously before sauntering away. Lando watches her walk away, admiring her retreat for a split second before turning his attention back to Han. “Alright, come on, flyboy.”

Han gestures clumsily over one shoulder. “You should go with ‘er. She’s pretty.”

Lando just rolls his eyes and hoists him up again. “And leave you bleeding and pitiful? Not likely.”

“Aww, you do care.”

“Hardly. I’ve got a good thing going here and if you up and die in the middle of this bar they’re going to shut it down for the night and I’m not risking that.”

“That’s fair, honestly.”

Lando resists the urge to roll his eyes again. “Come on, you’re bleeding on my shirt.”

“Red looks good on you.”

“...I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop talking.”

Han complies and goes silent, concentrating instead on supporting his weight on his good leg and letting Lando navigate them out of the bar. The warm energy from the bar dissipates the minute they get outside as a cold, dry wind cuts down the sidewalks. Lando clenches his teeth briefly, bracing himself against the cold, and drags Han along with him.

**OOOOO**

It’s a good mile or so walk to the shipyard and if the _Falcon_ was grounded for repairs that’s where it would be. Personally, Lando would have preferred to find a better method of transportation other than the limping crawl they’re making now but in an area like this which catered to the more upper class citizens of Baryl, the sight of two humans, one of them barely walking on his own and hanging off of the other’s shoulder, likely wouldn’t garner much sympathy from the few drivers ambling their way up and down the streets. So for the time being, at least, they’re stuck shambling along the sidewalks toward the shipyard.

“So,” Lando starts, hoisting Han a bit higher against his side. “Mind telling me why it looks like you went three rounds with an angry Rancor and lost every single one?”

Han chuckles softly and winces. “We got jumped by a couple of thieves while wrapping up a job on Quornax. They figured they’d land a pretty big payday by stealing our cargo and our ship at the same time.” He tries for a laugh but it sounds a lot like a groan. “We walked away a lot better than they did, trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Lando mumbles, pausing briefly to let Han catch his breath. He’s putting on a brave face but Lando can tell that even at their snail’s pace the walk is beginning to take its toll. Han’s mouth is set in a tight line and in spite of the chill in the air, his hair is clinging to his forehead with sweat. Once again, Lando wishes there was some better method of transport but he hasn’t spotted anyone willing to pick them up. So he sighs, tightens his hold on Han, and keeps walking.

The shipyard comes into view at the end of the street and honestly it’s not a minute too soon. Lando is basically dragging Han now, the latter’s bad leg having given out completely about a street back. The brave front is gone and he’s a pale, trembling mess by the time they reach the gate.

“Listen,” Lando says as he wrestles his half-conscious companion into the lift that will take them up to the _Falcon_. “I know you’re not one to really think out your plans before doing something and that’s fine but this was stupid even for you.”

He jabs a code into the keypad on the wall and the lift whirs to life. “What exactly was your plan, huh? Stagger away from your ship, half-crippled and bleeding, and just hope someone isn’t going to rob you blind and leave you for dead in an alley? Because I can just about guarantee that’s what would have happened tonight had I not found you.”

“ _I_ found _you_ ,” Han corrects hazily, leaning heavily against the wall. “And I wasn’t planning on going that far, just a few streets up and around the shipyard. I told you, I need to find a new job to help pay for the rest of these repairs otherwise we’re stuck here.”

“And you didn’t think to patch yourself up before going on this venture? Your guy from before beat it pretty quickly when you tried to take a header in the bar. I can tell you most potential employers are going to be hesitant to hire someone who looks like they just walked away from being mugged.”

“Hey, I didn’t really have a choice,” Han counters with a huff. “Chewie got banged up more than I did so I used most of the medical supplies on the ship on him. Can’t exactly restock without money.”

Lando just shakes his head. “You’re a disaster,” he mutters, catching hold of Han again as the lift slides to a stop on the level they need. He can see the _Falcon_ at the end of the dock and it looks close enough but also incredibly far away. Han looks like he can barely make it five more feet, let alone the five hundred feet it’s going to take to get to the ship. But they don’t have a choice (and Lando sure as hell isn’t carrying him) so he loops his arm around Han’s waist again and drags him forward.

By the time they reach the ship, Han is almost practically deadweight against him and it’s everything Lando can do to keep them both upright. The doors slide open easily and Lando feels a brief pang of regret as he steps into the ship he lost all those months ago. He tamps it down and drags Han aboard, dropping him on the nearest bench the second they’re onboard.

“Stay here,” he says pointedly although that doesn’t really seem like a necessary statement; Han looks like he’s one step away from passing out, let alone ready to jump up and walk away. Still, it feels like it needs to be said on principle if nothing else and Han nods heavily in response.

Lando leaves him on the bench and makes his way down the hallway in search of the nearest medical supply kit. He was lucky enough to never need much when he still had the _Falcon_ but he kept plenty onboard in case of an emergency. He had learned long ago that preparation never went to waste when it came to things like that and he’s silently glad for it now.

A low, rumbling growl stops him as he passes by one of the rooms and he peeks through the door to see Han’s Wookiee companion stretched out on one of the beds. Chewie’s fur is matted and singed in a couple places and the room has the vague smell of burned hair. There are large bandages wrapped around both arms, one leg, and his torso as well as a few smaller bandages dotting his face. The Wookiee is either asleep or unconscious, it’s hard to tell, but Lando isn’t planning on staying around to find out. He turns away and keeps walking.

He eventually finds the scattered remains of the medical supplies in a discarded mess on the floor of the cargo hold. Piles of ripped packaging and empty tubes of bacta gel are tossed in one corner, a couple of unopened packages still strewn across the floor. There are splotches of blood on the walls and the floor, a long, red streak of it smeared in a downward arc on the cargo door. The room is a complete disaster and it’s clear the cargo hold had become a makeshift trauma center after the end of their last mission.

Lando frowns at the implication; he figured the fight had been pretty bad judging by the extent of Han’s injuries but he didn’t know it was that bad. His eyes linger on the blood-streaked walls for a second longer before he stoops down and grabs a handful of the unopened bacta patches and a few tubes of the gel. He tucks them into his pocket, casting one last look at the gruesome room before turning and making his way back to the front of the ship.

Han is right where he left him, doubled over with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting in one hand. His eyes are half-lidded and it looks like he’d happily slip into a coma if that were an option. Lando isn’t going to give him that option, however, and kicks him solidly in the foot of his uninjured leg.

“I see you got blood all over my ship,” Lando mutters as he drops onto the bench beside Han and begins ripping open the packaging for the bacta patches.

“ _My_ ship,” Han counters automatically, swaying just a bit as he forces himself to sit up straighter. “I won it fair an’ square.”

“Mhmm,” Lando hums, moving onto the tubes of gel. “And look what you did with it. Now sit still and stop talking.”

The smaller scrapes and cuts are easy enough to clean and take care of and Lando makes quick work of the various small injuries he can see. He can feel Han watching him, either from curiosity or lack of anything better to do, but he focuses on the task at hand. He’s not worried about the minor cuts and scrapes but the bloody wound hidden beneath Han’s shirt has him concerned.

“Take off the jacket,” Lando tells him, grabbing another tube of bacta gel and handful of the patches. He doesn’t know much about first aid but he’s hoping the wound isn’t serious enough to warrant a trip to the nearest medical facility.

Han does as he’s told, wincing and grimacing and biting back several ugly curses as he wrestles the jacket off slowly. The whole left side of his shirt is soaked in blood from hem to armpit and the sight makes Lando’s stomach drop to somewhere in the vicinity of his boots. It looks much worse than he thought and he’s beginning to second guess his mediocre medical skills.

There’s a long, ragged hole in Han’s shirt in the middle of all the blood and Lando reaches out carefully, fingers brushing over the charred edges of the fabric. Han flinches and hisses quietly under his breath as Lando’s fingers pass over the tear but he stays still. Lando muttees a quiet apology in response and turns back to the task at hand. He takes hold of the fabric on either side of the hole and pulls it wider, the cloth tearing between his hands with a dull, wet rip.

Han frowns at the shredded remains of his shirt as Lando tears off the rest of it and drops it to the floor. “Aw, you ruined my shirt,” Han mumbles hazily, eyes landing on the bloody discarded fabric.

Lando rolls his eyes. “Trust me, this shirt was ruined before you ever put it on.”

With the bloody fabric removed, the wound doesn’t look nearly as bad as Lando feared. There’s a long, angry gash across Han’s left side, most likely from a blaster. It stretches back across his ribs, the skin and muscle torn and laid open. The edges of the wound are cauterized but the space in between is raw and gaping and now bleeding sluggishly. It’s definitely not the mortal wound Lando had feared it was and he ignores the flutter of relief in his chest.

“You’re lucky,” he tells Han as he reaches for one of the bacta patches. “Few inches to the right and you probably wouldn’t have walked away from that fight.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” Han grumbles, his breath hitching into a sharp hiss when Lando presses the bacta patch against the raw wound. It burns like hell, a deep, throbbing pain that takes up residence in his whole chest. For a second he can’t breathe, his lung literally seizing and refusing to cooperate, and the rush of blood in his ears is deafening. He can hear something in front of him, a fuzzy mumble of words, and it takes a second for his hearing to return to the point where he can understand what it is.

Lando is talking to him, his words soft yet tense as he applies another patch to the rest of the wound. “You’re alright,” he says, adding conviction to his voice even though neither of them really believe it. He looks a little grey himself but he keeps talking in spite of it. “This will at least stop the bleeding.”

When Han is finally able to drag in a ragged, shallow breath, he lets it out as a groan and slumps in pain. His chest still feels like it’s on fire but it’s now more of dull smolder rather than an uncontrollable inferno. His hands feels a bit numb, his fingertips tingling slightly, and he feels a cold, slick sweat breaking out between his shoulder blades. He thinks he might be shivering but he can’t tell.

“Thanks,” he manages finally, his voice sounding raw and thin in his ears.

Lando nods once. “Don’t thank me just yet,” he tells him, brushing away the empty bacta patch packages. “We still have to deal with your leg.”

“Leg’s fine,” Han tells him, waving one hand dismissively. “Leg’s all good.”

“I’m pretty sure having a piece of metal sticking out of your leg does not constitute as ‘fine’,” Lando counters shortly, his eyes locked on the sharp edge of metal imbedded deeply in Han’s right leg. Originally he had thought the injury was the result or a sprain or possibly a fracture but now he can see it’s because of a large chunk of shrapnel impaling the outside of Han’s leg. It’s a couple inches below the knee, piercing into the thick muscle of his calf, and there’s really no telling how deep it is. Luckily, the metal looks like a straight piece, no curved or bent edges, which means (hopefully) that it will be easy to remove.

In all honesty, they should probably find the nearest medical center and get it removed there but there isn’t one close by and he doesn’t trust Han to take care of it if he leaves it as is so he takes a breath to settle himself and reaches out to place a hand on Han’s knee. The smuggler looks at him warily.

“Take a deep breath,” Lando tells him simply.

Han frowns. “Wh-?” he begins to ask but Lando doesn’t give him a chance to finish the question before he reaches down with his free hand, grabs the metal, and pulls it out with a wet squelch.

The noise Han makes is indescribable, somewhere between a confused, indignant yelp and an agonized groan. He reaches out blindly, gripping his injured leg with one hand and slapping the other one down hard on Lando’s shoulder. He needs something to hold onto because otherwise he might lose himself in the pain.

Lando winces as Han’s fingers dig deep holes into his shoulder but he can’t focus on that right now; he needs to get the bleeding under control. Blood began pouring out of the wound immediately, soaking Han’s pants leg and forming a glossy red pool beneath his boot. There’s a lot of it, a startling amount, really, but it’s not a lethal amount and Lando can handle that.

He pulls a thin blade from his boot and uses it to slice effortlessly through Han’s pants leg. The wound is still bleeding heavily when Lando slaps the last remaining bacta patch over it and he covers it with his hand, pressing his palm firmly over the wound.

Han tries to jerk away from him, his expression twisted in agony, but Lando holds onto his leg tightly. He needs to get the bleeding under control or Han will have a lot more problems than just a few cuts and bruises. He can feel the muscles in Han’s leg twitch and quiver beneath his hand which he hopes is a good thing and not an indication of nerve damage.

The bleeding finally slows to a stop after another minute or so and by the time it does Lando’s hand is red from wrist to fingertip. He sighs quietly and wipes the blood off on his own pants leg, figuring he’ll never be able to wear this outfit again without thinking about this night so it doesn’t matter.

He feels Han’s grip on his shoulder loosen and looks up just in time to see him start tipping to the side listlessly. “Whoa, whoa, hey,” he says, catching Han by the shoulders and steering him back so he’s propped against the wall. “No blacking out, you hear me?”

Han doesn’t appear to hear him, blinking in a slow, unfocused way that makes it clear he’s teetering right on the edge of consciousness. His skin is ashen and he’s shivering from pain and blood loss (and shock as well if Lando’s not lying to himself). Lando reaches up and pats him on the cheek, frowning at the clamminess of his skin. He does it again, just hard enough to sting, and it has the desired effect as Han blinks at him in response.

“Eyes open, pretty boy,” Lando tells him shortly. “I didn’t blow my night patching you up just so you could take a nap.”

“You think ‘m pretty…?” Han mumbles, blinking again in a vain attempt to remain conscious.

Lando shakes his head; of course that’s the section Han heard. “You’re tolerable,” he tells him, absently wiping his hand on his pants again. The blood is drying in the creases of his hands and fingers, making the skin feel tacky.

Han offers a lazy, half-conscious smirk. “Knew it.”

Lando ignores the comment and turns instead to picking up the mess around them. The room looks like a much smaller version of the cargo-hold-turned-trauma-center below deck, the empty bacta packages and the pool of blood on the floor adding the finishing touches.

He’s right in the middle of gathering the wad of trash on the floor when the thud and thump of heavy footsteps echoes from down the hall. A second later Chewbacca appears in the doorway, taking in the grim scene. He sees the blood on the floor, the empty bacta tubes and packages in Lando’s hands, and a barely conscious Han on the bench and very calmly loses his shit.

In a flash of fur and fury he surges forward, shoving Lando out of the way and coming to a stop in front of Han. Lando staggers back and feels a flare of indignation at the shove but he knows better than to get between a protective and pissed off Wookiee and his human companion.

“Chewie, s’okay,” Han tells him as the Wookiee continues to fuss over him. “Lando was helping me, not hurtin’ me. E’s a good guy.”

Chewie rounds on Lando then like he doesn’t quite believe the assertions of his barely-conscious and still bleeding friend. Lando holds up both hands in surrender and nods in Han’s direction. “Just trying to help, I swear,” he assures him which would probably be more convincing if one hand wasn’t still covered in Han’s drying blood.

The Wookiee huffs out a permissive growl before turning his attention back to Han. He stoops down and scoops the injured human off the bench, cradling him protectively against his chest. Han doesn’t even try to fight it (to be honest Lando isn’t even sure he’s conscious anymore) and hangs in the Wookiee’s arms like a ragdoll.

Lando watches wordlessly as Chewie turns and makes his way back down the hall toward the bunk he’d been occupying earlier, still fussing and fretting over his injured friend with quiet little growls and grumbles as he walks. He disappears around the corner and Lando is left alone.

For a minute Lando just stands there, unsure of what to do with himself. He contemplates following Chewie for a second, if only to make sure Han is, in fact, still breathing, but he stops himself with a sigh. Instead, he turns back and begins gathering the rest of the empty packages, dumping them in the nearest bin and looking up when he hears the heavy thud of Chewie’s footsteps approaching again a few minutes later.

The Wookiee walks back in, taking a quick survey of the room as he enters. He huffs quietly as his eyes land on the pool of blood still on the ground, the sight obviously causing him no small amount of distress. He steps forward after a second and drops one large, heavy paw on Lando’s shoulder and for a very brief moment Lando wonders if the Wookiee is about to toss him out of the nearest window. Instead, Chewie nods once in what looks like thanks and ruffles his hair roughly before stepping away again and disappearing back down the hall to tend to his injured companion.

It’s a clear dismissal, not rude in any way but an unspoken indication that there’s nothing else to be done here. The bacta patches will take care of the worst of Han’s injuries and sleep will take care of the rest so really, his job here is done. Not that Lando really expects him to listen to reason but a fretful Wookiee might help get the point across.

He finishes cleaning up and then stands motionless in the room for a few more silent seconds. He feels a tug of guilt about leaving, briefly wondering if he should go check on Han one more time before he leaves, but he reasons that Chewie has it covered and wouldn’t appreciate another human hovering around. So he shrugs, tosses the last of the garbage into the bin, and pats the wall of the _Falcon_ fondly as he walks out.

He almost makes it back to the lift when he stops, hand hovering in mid-air a few inches from the power switch. Han had said they were stuck here until they found a new job to pay for repairs to the _Falcon_ and Lando is relatively certain his potential employer from before had bailed. That means it could take anywhere from a couple days to a couple weeks to find something that would pay them well enough to finish fixing the ship. At the moment, neither of them were in any condition to take on a large job which meant that anything they did find likely wouldn’t offer substantial any kind of pay.

Lando sighs, warring with himself internally. He doesn’t even like Han and he certainly has no reason to help him but he knows a bind when he sees one. As much as he hates to admit it, Lando has found himself in the position of needing money before and had gotten help from unlikely sources; he wonders if this is some kind of cosmic nudge to pay it forward. And yeah, Han Solo is a right pain in the ass but he also saved his life back on Kessel and maybe Lando kinda, sorta owes him for that.

He groans out loud then, frustrated with his own conscience, and doubles back to find the nearest dock worker. He finds a construction droid busily patching up a damaged engine and catches its attention. The droid is a basic, featureless model, nothing at all like L3 (a stab of loss Lando still feels even after all these months) but he’s able to communicate his intentions well enough for it to understand.

He pulls up the work order from the droid’s catalogue system and locates the _Falcon._ The cost of the repairs is steep and he whistles softly, shaking his head in a combination of sympathy and pity. The Falcon is a beautiful ship but she is not cheap and any repairs that needed to be made wouldn’t be either.

He considers his choices for another second or so before finally relenting and putting up his night’s winnings to the repair of the _Falcon_. It doesn’t clear the debt but it knocks it down substantially to a much more manageable amount. And no, he didn’t do it for Han, he did it because even though the _Falcon_ doesn’t belong to him anymore he knows the value of a good ship and wants to make sure she gets repaired properly (that’s what he tells himself at least).

Deed done, Lando turns and makes his way back across the walkway toward the lift, leaving the _Falcon_ and her occupants behind him.

**OOOOO**

Lando wakes up alone. It’s the first time that’s happened in...well, he doesn’t remember actually. It’s such an unfamiliar feeling that it leaves him disoriented and confused for a few seconds while he shakes off the last remnants of sleep.

He’s still in Alnema, he knows that at least. He figures he has another day or so here before this job wraps up and he moves onto the next one. He had gotten a few good offers over the past few days and needed to sort through them to figure out what would be his best course of action (ie. which job was going to pay the most).

It had been two days since Han flagged him down at the bar and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the smuggler since he left him on the _Falcon_. Then again he wasn’t really looking. Every time that nagging urge to check in on the idiot and make sure he hadn’t aggravated his injuries further reared its ugly head he tamped it down the fact that he and Han were not friends, they were acquaintances at best and it was better for them to stay that way. Still, he’s had to physically stop himself from walking back over to the shipyard a couple of times in the past two days just to check.

A heavy pounding against the door jolts him out of his reverie and he glares at the offending noise. He has no idea who would pounding on the door this time of morning but it’s definitely unnecessary. He considers just ignoring it but another harsh rap against the door makes it clear that whoever it is isn’t leaving until they see him.

Grumbling to himself, Lando pulls himself out of bed and staggers over to answer the door. A small messenger bot is hovering just on the other side, it’s delivery lights pulsing a bright, fluorescent blue. It makes a soft little chirping sound when Lando opens the door and immediately spits out an envelope at his feet. Then, message delivered, it turns and putters off down the street to its next delivery.

Lando watches it disappear before stooping down to pick up the envelope. It’s blank on both sides, no indication of where it came from, but inside is a small holodisc. He pulls it out and activates it in the palm of his hand. Han’s smirking face appears a second later and Lando has to resist the urge to roll his eyes on instinct.

“Hey Lando,” Han greets with a breezy half-smile. “So, first things first, I feel like I should apologize for bleeding all over you the other night. Pretty sure that’s not how you wanted your night to go so I’m sorry for that. Also I, uh…” he pauses for a second, dragging a hand through his shaggy hair. “I know what you did for the _Falcon_ so thanks. A lot. Like, I’m pretty sure we would have been stuck here for a couple more weeks if you hadn’t helped us out so seriously, thanks.”

Lando feels a very small smile tug at one corner of his mouth in spite of himself and quickly shuts it down.

“That guy from the bar sent us a message yesterday offering a job so we’re wrapping up the repairs now,” Han continues, his attention broken for a split second as he addresses something off camera. He looks a lot better in the recording than he has the other night, the bruises faded and the cuts almost completely healed, an accomplishment Lando will gladly take credit for that if anyone asks. Han turns back to the recording a second later and continues. “We should be able to roll out of here by this afternoon.”

“I wanted to come find you to thank you in person but I wasn’t sure if you were even still on Baryl anymore. I looked around yesterday but no one had any information on you. Which is smart, honestly, but a bit of a drag in this case.” He fidgets for a second, looking somewhat uncomfortable with recording all this instead of saying it face-to-face.

“Anyway, I’m sending this recording with a messenger bot in the hopes that it finds you but if not…” Han shrugs and drops both hands into his lap. “Well, in that case I guess I’ll just have to wait until the next time I see you.”

Lando feels a brief flash of guilt but it doesn’t last for long; once again, the less he and Han interact with each other on Baryl the better. There are some powerful people here with even more powerful connections and maintaining a low profile is crucial (something he doubts Han knows the first thing about). Han is smart, there’s no doubt about that, but he’s also incredibly stupid sometimes and opening his mouth at the wrong time could get them both tossed onto the nearest hard labor planet or worse. So yeah, keeping his distance on a planet like Baryl is definitely for the best.

“Anyway,” Han continues on the recording, offering one last easy smile. “Thanks again for everything, Lando, really. I hope I’ll see you around some time.” He reaches forward to turn off the recording but stops, seeming to just now remember something. “Oh, and I left something for you in the envelope. Figured you could use it.”

Lando frowns and looks back in the envelope. He doesn’t stop the smile this time as he pulls out a Sylop card from envelope, the same one Han had used to win the _Falcon_. He shakes his head and grins in spite of himself.

“See you around, buddy,” Han says with one more quick grin before the recording ends and the holodisc goes dark.

Lando stands in the hallway, still and silent for a few more seconds, staring at the Sylop and the holodisc in his hand. Like they always say, Baryl has the ability to give you everything you want and nothing you need at the same time. With one last fleeting grin, he drops both the card and the holodisc in his pocket and goes back to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! 
> 
> I'm not cool but sometimes I post funny things online. We should be friends on Tumblr: atlantisburning


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